


engaged in a lie.

by cl3rks



Series: castle walls. [1]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Baked Goods, Early Mornings, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Forehead Kisses, Hurt, Tags TBA, Vague References, bunny slippers, castle of lies, fake engagement, frank castle is such a cutie, frankie and you, goodnight kisses, i might give you a designated last name, i named your parents, long nights, not chapter two but part two, not yet anyway, possible GDOV, reader doesn't know who frank is, reader learns who frank is in chapter three, will contain smut in part two of this ?? probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6302602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a problem and Frank has a solution.</p><p>Or, in which Frank Castle is your fake-fiancé and the lie slowly turns into truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. solution.

**Author's Note:**

> Typos and errors will be fixed, if I find any. I love calling Frank Castle "Frankie". Also, FYI, the chapter count may change. God damn, the moment I saw him I knew this fricker would mess me up.

He wasn't supposed to be considered cute or loveable or kind. No, he was Frank Castle – the Punisher – the biggest bad of big bads. He was the head knocker and the guy who could get shit done.

So, why on earth did he have a neighbor who insisted on calling him "Frankie"? She wasn't subtle about it, or harsh. She just called him it, and when she was trying to be frank, no pun intended, she'd call him just that: Frank. But, to her, he was never harsh or a killer or some brute. He was Frankie. 

He was suffering and lost and beaten down by the world sometimes. At those times, he struggled to get back up. He often thought of her as the hand reaching for him in the darkness, attempting to pull him from the vast black ocean that was drowning him. 

She was nothing more than a friend, though. She'd check on him and leave him baked goods and when he caught her sneaking back to her house in the early morning with just pajama shorts, a tank top and some bunny slippers on -- he'd smile. He'd known her for as long as he had lived there. 

She welcomed him into the neighborhood with a box full of brownies that had a yellow sticky note pressed to the top. She was always neat about how she did things. 

It was cold, one particular morning, and Frank was waiting for her. He saw her peeking her head out from her door, a clear container with a blue lid pressed to her stomach. He saw the cookies inside and a sly smile sneaked onto his face. He quickly went to his door and opened it, leaning against the doorjamb as the bitter wind smacked him in the face. 

He didn't care, though. 

Frank heard her slippers scrapping against the ground outside. They were making a soft sound, probably worn out a little from all the back and forth trips as her tired body refused to pick her feet up more than an inch from the ground at any given time before noon. Her head was hung slightly as she walked, barely glancing around as she made it up his walk.

Same flannel pajama shorts. Same fading band tank top. Same grey bunny slippers. Sure, she changed them -- grey flannel shorts, red tank or black tank and red flannel shorts -- but they were still the same, nonetheless.

"You cold?" He asked, cup of coffee in one hand as he leaned against the frame. She nearly dropped the contained, a small yelp coming from her throat. He would've been lying if he said he didn't enjoy hearing the sound coming from her. "You look cold."

"Jesus, Frankie!" She snapped, coming closer. "You scared me!"

"No shit." Frank chuckled, getting an annoyed glare from her. "What have you got today, (Y/N)?"

"Peanut butter cookies." (Y/N) grinned, pushing the container towards him. She had a smaller body, compared to his. Sure, he wasn't superbly tall but he was muscular, perfectly so. "Almost made red velvet."

"Mm." Frank replied, sipping his coffee. "Wanna come in?"

"I-"

"I never give you anything back."

"I told you, you don't have to. Y'know that." She shrugged slightly, her shoulders being nipped at by the cold air stirring up some leaves as the foggy blanket of the early morning hung around them. "But... you got coffee?"

He held up the cup slightly for proof. 

She walked inside without a second thought. She thanked God, however, that he was actually wearing a shirt this time. 

Last time he attempted to invite her in, he was wearing grey sweatpants, same ones as now, and was shirtless. (Y/N) swore her heart stopped that day. 

She heard Frank close the door behind them. She knew where the kitchen was and, more importantly, where he kept his mugs. She slid the peanut butter cookies onto the counter and went for the cinnamon colored mug he kept, just for her, in the back of his cupboard. 

It wasn't long before she was sitting on the counter, her legs kicking out slightly while sipping her coffee as Frank stood beside her, munching on his second cookie while she watched him.

"Good?"

"Mm." He mumbled for the second time that morning. This caused (Y/N) to laugh, her eyes crinkling slightly in the corners as her lips curled up a little. "Still warm."

"Baked 'em this morning."

"Not last night?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Ah." Frank's pause hung in the air before he glanced from his cookie to her face and back again twice more. "Wanna talk about it?"

She sighed effortlessly, the sound familiar to Frank.

"You don't have to." 

"I know." (Y/N) said, meeting his gaze with her own. "I just-"

He waited patiently as he wiped a crumb off his upper lip.

"My mom is begging me to get married, because I'm getting older, and I told her I was engaged to get her off my back."

"Oh?" His eyebrows went up high at this. "And?"

"I'm not. Obviously." She waved her left hand in front of his face, no ring in sight. "I don't have a boyfriend or a potential marriage partner in my sights and I'm supposed to go to dinner with her, said nonexistent potential marriage partner and my father."

Without missing a beat, or a second thought, Frank shrugged and offered his solution.

"We could fake it."

"We?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you. We'll have a good time, pretend to be engaged and in... say a week," he grasped, shrugging once more. "You can say you broke it off, that I, your nonexistent potential marriage partner, was an asshole and she'll be off your back for a while."

(Y/N) looked amazed. "You been thinking about this?"

"No." _Yes._ "Got anything better?"

"Not really." 

"Then it's settled."

"You'd really do this for me? Your wacky neighbor that bakes you treats at five-ish in the morning because they can't sleep?"

"Sure, why not?"

Her smile was the only confirmation he needed. She set her cup down and he, thankfully, set his down just in time before she swung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. 

It was safe to say that she was the one that nearly pulled him to stand between her legs, even without meaning too. 

His hands came up to slowly press against her back before his arms wound tightly around her, giving her a quick but gentle squeeze. She let go, as did he, and his arms dropped as her hand slipped down to his chest.

"You remember where your loyalties lie." She grinned, snatching another cookie out of the container after patting his chest. "Good man."

"If I keep wanting baked stuff, then yeah, I'll remember _exactly_ where they lie."


	2. dinner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your parents need to chill out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why me why do i write this  
> P.S. this is weird and idk it's fifteen pages of pure WEIRD i may have gotten some facts wrong but honestly I Don't Care™

"Why do men always look better than women when less effort is involved?"

Frank sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he shrugged and sent you a glance. "You look fine."

"You keep saying that!"

"You're just nervous."

"And you're not?"

"No, not really." He shrugged again, his shoulders slumping against the passenger's seat of your car as you drove to the restaurant where you'd be seeing your parents. "Why are you?"

"Because we're fake engaged, Frankie! We're fake together! We're fake!"

"You're normally so calm."

You huffed and blew a wild strand of hair out of your eyes. You, without much thought, put on a knee-length black skirt with a pair of black seamless leggings and brown boots that went up to your calves. Your shirt was a different story, however. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment buys. It was dark blue and ended at your elbows, flowing slightly around the bottom. 

Frank, however, was wearing dark jeans, polished boots (that he likely did himself) and a navy blue button up shirt; the top button was unbuttoned, naturally. He also had on his leather jacket, something he never stopped wearing.

"I'm wearing a fake ring."

"Real."

"Fake!" You pointed a finger at him, your breath heavy. "The cheapest but most expensive looking one at the jeweler's... What have we done?"

"Nothing." He muttered, shaking his head. "You can still call this off – pretend to be sick. 

"Too easy." You replied. "My mother would come check on me. She'd make me a rush-order of chicken noodle soup."

"Listen, if anything bad happens-"

"Which it will."

" _If," _he emphasized the word clearly, his voice a little louder as you turned a corner. The passenger's side was on the same side as the the restaurant. He saw it first before repeating himself. "If your parents ask a question you can't answer, I'll do it."__

__"Fine." You muttered, shaking your head. You pulled into the parking lot and parked the car, turning off the ignition. You checked your lipstick in the mirror, the one that nearly matched your natural lip color, and made sure your eyeliner was still in place. No smudges in sight – you were ready to go. You glanced at the small chain hanging around your neck, nearly having forgotten it was there._ _

__You were so used to wearing it that if felt like a part of you. It was a small locket your father had given you._ _

__You sighed, glanced at Frank and sighed once more._ _

__"Promise to beat me to death in the alley if things go really bad."_ _

__"I'll just boost you through the restroom window, how's that?"_ _

__"How do you even know there's a window?"_ _

__You hadn't noticed that he had canvassed the entire lot the moment he got out of the car._ _

__"Lucky guess." He replied, the nonchalant tone lacing his voice almost expertly. "You comin' or not?"_ _

__You stared at him, his door open and yours closed. You chewed at your lip and got out, taking your dark gray clutch with you._ _

__"Thank you, Frankie. For this, I mean."_ _

__His smile was gentle and kind and not at all the Punisher, not the man who seemed to put an end to the bad in Hell's Kitchen. You didn't know that side of him, though. You just knew Frank Castle, or, Frankie. "Hey, don't mention it."_ _

__"I just did." You were grasping at jokes to ease your nerves._ _

__"Don't do it again."_ _

__"Aye, aye, Captain!" _Was the salute you gave him necessary? Hint: Yes._ As was your giggle that followed._ _

__"Please don't."_ _

__When you got inside, you were surprised to find that your parents were already seated._ _

__“I just don't see why they're not here... we're here. They could've called.” Your father, Mike, said almost too loudly. His hands were clasped together as he leaned his elbows on the table. His head was turned to talk to your mother, Ann, as she scoffed, her eyes rolling in unison with the nose. “They could've!”_ _

__“We're early, alright? If anything, it's our fault.” She looked up just as she said this, catching both you and Frank in her line of vision. “Besides, here they are now.”_ _

__“About damn time.” You heard your father mutter as you smiled falsely, the feeling almost painful. You glanced at Frank, his smile much more realistic. “Hi, sweetie.”_ _

__“Hey, dad.” You dropped your smile a little, attempting to make it more natural as you parents stood. You hugged your father and kissed his cheek, doing the same with your mother. “Hi, mom.”_ _

__“And you must be my daughter's fiancé.” Your father began, extending his hand for Frank to shake as your fake-husband-to-be introduced himself. “How come we've never heard about you before, eh?”_ _

__Frank, instead of getting offended or having some odd clouded judgment, took this in stride. “She was a little unsure, sir. Didn't really know if we'd work out.”_ _

__“Oh?”_ _

__“She's smart.” Frank complimented, causing your face to heat up a little as you took a seat along with your mother, the two men staying standing. “Just like her mother, I assume? And tough, like her father – she kicked my ass in the ring.”_ _

__“You box?” Your father questioned, finally taking a seat after shaking Frank's hands. Admittedly, your father had taught you when you were younger. You always lied, claiming you still took lessons, but you didn't. You went over to Frank's house every so often, using the punching bag in his garage as he stood behind you, guiding you through the motions._ _

__He'd learned it in basic training, or something like that. (He didn't talk about it, you didn't ask.)_ _

__“A little bit.” Frank confirmed, nodding his head slightly as a waiter came around with the bottle of red wine your mother, most likely, had ordered. “I also know a few other things from the Marine Corps.”_ _

__This got an eyebrow raise from your father. Before he asked any questions, he looked at the waiter. “Get me a bottle of beer, whatever you have.”_ _

__“Mike-”_ _

__“Uh, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like the same.” Frank cut in, giving the waiter a smile after he poured you a glass of red and poured your mother the same. He nodded quickly, letting the bottle rest on the side of the table before walking back to the kitchen. “Anyway, yeah, I box.”_ _

__“Hard to believe my daughter could beat a, uh -”_ _

__“Lieutenant.”_ _

__Your father's smile was one clearly influenced by pure amusement. _“Lieutenant,”_ he paused, his eyes flickering to yours. “In the ring... no matter how good she possibly could be.”_ _

__Frank gave you a quick glance, his hand going to yours as you rested it on the table. You two shared a smile before he spoke._ _

__“She's pretty good... had me pinned in a couple of minutes.”_ _

__“Mm, that's my girl.” Your father grinned proudly, causing you to grin back. You gave Frank's large hand a small squeeze. His hand was warm, completely fitting around yours in a gentle grasp. The waiter came back with two bottled beers, setting them down before leaving once more. He was likely giving you more time to order, unless your parents had ordered for the table – which wasn't unusual, at least for your father._ _

__You took a moment and looked at your parents. You almost felt guilty, seeing their eyes as they took in Frank. Your mother looked beautiful, as always. Her burgundy dress was something you always found she looked wonderful in, and your father looked handsome himself. He was wearing pressed pants, a dress shirt and some sports jacket._ _

__“How long have you two been engaged? You know, considering we didn't even know you existed, Frank.”_ _

__You swallowed almost harshly, your heart beat speeding up as Frank's hand slipped off of yours. Your hand dropped below the table, as did his, before you reached for his hand again, gripping tightly. He must've felt a slight pulse in your hand, one trailing from your wrist, because his thumb began stroking the back of your hand._ _

__His head turned so his eyes could meet yours, his eyebrow raising slightly._ _

__“How long's it been? A couple weeks?”_ _

__“About, yeah? Let's see... we were at the convenience store, you got some gum and jerky and looked at me and said,-”_ _

__“'Wanna get hitched?'” Frank filled in, his finger gently pressing against the band of the ring you were wearing._ _

__“He had the ring in his pocket, took it out and showed me it when we got to the car and asked me the same thing again.”_ _

__“Can't believe she said yes.” Frank smiled, watching you. Your eyes met his warm ones, his smile was genuine as he watched you. You leaned towards him a little, his smile faltering only as his eyes flickered over your lips and then back to your parents out of his peripheral vision._ _

__“That sounds so sweet.” Your mother stated, looking between you two. You were the first to lean back, your hand still in Frank's. You saw him sit up a little more, clearing his throat as he brought up his opposite hand to gently scratch of his left eyebrow. “Really, it does – and simple.”_ _

__You half wondered if that was an insult._ _

__“Should we order?” You asked suddenly, your voice uneven. “I'm getting kind of hungry, dad.”_ _

__“We already did. Steaks all around.”_ _

__“Sounds good.” Frank said politely. You had a feeling he wasn't complaining either way. There were times when you didn't just bake him cookies or cakes or brownies or lemon bars or what have you; you also made him dinner, sometimes. When you both had nothing better to do._ _

__He'd usually come over to your house, sometimes seeing you cook at his house was painful. You reminded him a little of his wife or something of that sort._ _

__“Oh, thanks?” You muttered. As dinner went on, Frank answered any questions your mother or father had that you couldn't answer yourself. You were a bundle of nerves, your head even began to hurt._ _

__You were barely through the night when your father stopped allowing Frank to answer questions and the spotlight was on you._ _

__You were sharing a triple-chocolate cake with Frank when your mother spoke._ _

__“How many children do you think you'll have? When is the wedding?”_ _

__You choked on your cake, the chocolate attempting to force itself down the wrong pipe. “Mom!” You whined, still coughing as you reached for your red wine. Frank stared at you, silently asking if you were okay.  
“I don't think children are really, uhm, being thought of?” Frank began, clenching his jaw at the thought of his past ones. “Plus, we just got engaged.” _ _

__“I know, but while we wait for you to plan, you could meet the rest of the family.”_ _

__“No, absolutely not.” You told her, setting down your glass of wine before picking up your napkin and wiping at your lips._ _

__“Why not? The family would love Frank!”_ _

__“Frankie would be overwhelmed.” You stated, shaking your hand from his – you'd been holding it all night. “He can't meet the family.”_ _

__“The whole family isn't that bad!” Your father cut in, finishing the small piece of pie he was sharing with your mother. “Just my side and your mother's.”_ _

__“The family?” You began, setting everything down. “The whole family?” You annunciated, repeating it._ _

__“(Y/N), baby-” Frank tried, his hand going to your leg. “Maybe it would be best-”_ _

__“No, the whole family is out of the question.” You told them. “He can't – I won't – no.”_ _

__You were angry – they'd just met him and they were already suggesting that he meet your entire loud as hell family? Every one of them was was nice, yes, and polite but they half the time they couldn't mind their own business and everyone was in the business of everybody else._ _

__Sure, you were lying but it was still offensive._ _

__“Honey, why not?” Your mother prodded as she finished the last bite of pie. Frank had been nursing his beer bottle the entire night, but the second your mother had brought up the family, he began taking a few larger drinks. “I mean, you've kept him secret.”_ _

__“Just, let me think about it, alright?” You asked before correcting your previous statement. “Look, uh – we'll think about it.”_ _

__You stood and began walking away. Frank took this time to thank your parents, drop some money on the table and follow after you. You looked over your shoulder and called out to them._ _

__“And Ma, please don't put this on Facebook! I don't need Aunt Tina coming after me with an old veil and some weird tradition!”_ _

__Frank's hand pressed to your lower back as he fell into step beside you, his posture straight and tall. You sent a glance his way and his jaw was set firmly and his eyes were locked on the door. He seemed to be breathing evenly, unlike yourself. You were strung between disbelief and regret (with a dash of guilt on the side) as you both pushed open the doors as you reached them, quickly walking to your SUV._ _

__You went to your side and Frank to his. You both got in and as you started the engine, pulled out of the lot and drove, you thought about it. You thought and you stared and you were kicking yourself and shaking your head and you were sitting at the last red light just before your house when you were about to swear and scream and then –_ _

__“You gonna say somethin' or are you just gonna silently kill yourself?”_ _

__You looked at Frank, the darkness outside was bleeding through your car's windows and the shop lights on the outer blocks were streaking slightly, blinking as they slowly died out for the night. You swallowed harshly and sniffed a breath and clenched your jaw._ _

__Frank's eyes were concerned but his tone didn't match._ _

__“Well?”_ _

__“This is stupid. I set this shit up and-”_ _

__“We.”_ _

__“We set this shit up and now it's falling down.” Frank shrugged, his leather jacket making a slight straining sound as he did this, his broad shoulders were something you were focusing on, rather than his face. You'd absolutely give in to whatever he was trying to coerce out of you if you looked over his face. “It's my fault.”_ _

__“It's not a big deal.”_ _

__“But it is! My parents love you! They love you so much that they want you to meet my crazy family!”_ _

__Frank sighed, turning his head to look out the window. You saw the reflected light of the spotlight change from red to green and, without another word, you drove off. You were quick to park n your driveway. Frank said he'd just walk over to his house after he made sure you got inside._ _

__You thought it was absurd, considering you weren't that far from the door, but you went along with it – regardless of the oddity of it. You realized that he was being polite, once you reached your door._ _

__“Thanks, Frankie. We've dug ourselves into a hole, threw away the shovel and have no way of getting out.”_ _

__“Ah, that's not true.” Frank replied, standing below the porchlight. “I didn't have to boost you out of the restroom window, now did I?”_ _

__“Boost me outta the hole, then?”_ _

__“There is no hole because they believed it. They'll get over it.”_ _

__You sighed and fished your keys out of your pocket. You stepped passed him, allowing yourself to open the screen door and shove your key into the lock. You knew he was still behind you, even as you opened the door halfway._ _

__“Hey, Frankie?”_ _

__“Hm?” He asked, watching you turn to him. Your free hand moved to gently grasp the collar of Frank's jacket. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, one that nearly missed and hit the edge of his lips because clumsy ol' you nearly lost your footing, and then stepped back. You released his collar and let your hand slip, allowing yourself to pat his chest before going inside. “Oh, that.”_ _

__You stifled a chuckle as you let the screen door close behind you, shutting your actual door after removing your keys. You latched it and made sure it was shut before going up the stairs. Your cat greeted you, winding themselves around your legs._ _

__“Kyla, baby – I fed you before you left, that was your last bit for the day.”_ _

__She purred softly, her gray body moving quick as you turned on various lights. You'd left a few on so people thought you were home, just in case somebody tried to break in... you wondered if that had ever worked._ _

__You found out, later that night, however, that leaving your lights on didn't help._ _

__You heard one creak in your sleep and your eyes snapped open. You reached for your phone and the first number you dialed was Frank's. You were quick to move under your bed, your cat following suit._ _

__You, out of pure anxiety, hoped they completely overlooked your bedroom as you dialed Frank's number, the ringing tone droning on and on as you hid under the bed._ _

___Man, what does it take to get a guy to pick up his damn phone?_ _ _


	3. you'd just come after her again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank wasn't close. You didn't have a chance to wonder why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fight scene !! choking, blood mention, gun use, swearing and a whole lot of yanking and shrieking ! this portion of the series is almost done.

Every bone in your body was screaming at you to slip out the window, that the people were downstairs but you knew they weren't – you knew you didn't have any time. They'd hear it, anyway. 

You listened as Frank answered his phone.

"What?"

"There are people in my house. I'm under my bed and I think they're upstairs and it's dark and-"

"I'll be right there."

He didn't hang up, though. He kept the call going – he told you to put it on speaker and mute him. So, with that command, you did. You waited and breathed shallowly, your chest pressing against the ground.

"Does he know we're here?" The voice sounded accented.

"No. This is off the books, I wanted him to be proud for once. Especially if we got his girl."

"And if she isn't here?"

"She is." The man's voice was menacing and cold and – _fuck_ – scary as hell. "I know she is."

They were doing their best to whisper, coming closer to your bedroom as time dragged on. The light emitting from your phone wasn't bright enough to give away your hiding spot, but your heart was beating quickly. 

You heard your cat hiss and scamper out from the bed, running at the men. One of the men – you quickly gathered that there were three men – pushed her with his foot harshly. She let out a painfully loud yowl and then ran back to you, hairs straight with her ears back.

She was ready to fight. You, however, were not. 

You were trying to calm down. You tried focusing on the blue sock beneath your bed, the one you had lost a few weeks ago. You tried focusing on your cat, the time ticking away on your phone screen... on Frank's picture icon. 

He was staring intently at something. You'd taken the picture in a mere second. He hadn't caught you, either, which was a benefit to the contact icon cause. In the icon, his jaw was set firmly and his eyes looked hard but his eyebrows were furrowed slightly. 

Even from the side angle of the picture, you could tell.

"She's not here. Not in her bed." You suddenly heard. "Maybe she really isn't here."

"She is... I know it, I just said that. Find the little bitch."

"On it." 

"We need her alive... Once we get him, though, then we'll be in business."

You were wondering what was taking Frank so long. Did he not go back go his place after he watched you go inside yours? Where else would he go?

You stared at the dust bunny near you and took a shallow breath, getting the gross, dusty buildup in your nostrils.

_Oh no._

Your nose tickled. Your face twitched, your mouth opened as you took in a sharp breath – your hands flew over your face and dropped your phone. The noise that followed sounded like a shortened fog horn, almost. The sneeze was muffled, yes – but the dropping of your phone and your forehead hitting the floor from the sheer impact of the sneeze and your close quarters... weren't.

"Ya here that, Sean?"

"Don't use my fuckin' name!" Was the snap that followed. The man who had been leading the group, apparently – "Listen, find her."

You heard three sets of footsteps press against the floorboards in your room.

"I know you're in here, lass." You didn't say a damn thing. "C'mon out lovely girl, we've got a present for you."

You shifted slightly, seeing a pair of heavy looking construction boots step past the far right corner of the end of your bed. You took a deep breath, avoiding dust bunnies and making noise. 

"Oh, (Y/N)...." Sean, the man who had been named by his B&E buddies, said. He knew your name and it sounded wrong coming from him. "I know you're here."

 _You won't let me forget._

"Come out, sweet cheeks... Hagen, Bain and I have got quite the present."

"Thought you didn't wanna us to use our names?"

"She won't live long enough to repeat them." Sean replied, you assumed to either Hagen or Bain – or both, for that matter. "And, if she sees our faces, she won't have a chance to describe them."

You heard the screech of tires hurtling a large car in the distance as it turned, allowing for the sound to echo off the houses. 

You heard nothing as footsteps retreated back to the hallway, hoping you'd be alright. Suddenly, and, with a loud victorious sound, someone reached beneath the bed and grasped your ankles in a firm grip. They hauled you backwards and you screamed.

Frank no doubt heard it – if he was close, that is.

You screamed as the hands moved from your ankles to grab your shoulders and yank you up, shaking and tossing you about as they struggled to quiet you. You fought and pushed and smacked and punched and kicked as the sunshine haired man attempting to pick you up failed. He dropped you and you tried skittering away, but another man with copper hair grabbed you by the hair and yanked you upwards; his grip firm and unrelenting.

His opposite arm wrapped tightly around your waist and began carting you out to the hallway as you screamed and kicked and flailed. He was much stronger than you, though. 

You attempted to swivel your body, trying to wiggle from his grasp. The man simply swore at you and held you tighter.

"Should I threaten 'er, Sean?" The man holding you questioned.

"Not yet, Hagen."

Which made the blond man Bain, the red haired man holding you had to be Hagen and the brunette near you was Sean. 

The Irish, you realized dimly, that's who these men were employed by... that's who these men were – you'd heard about a shooting a little while ago. Who did you think they were? The girlfriend of whoever had done it? You didn't even know them – 

"Please." You cried, Hagen's grip getting tighter as it choked the air out of you. You gasped out, your voice unable to raise as your heart nearly beat out of your chest. "Just let me go."

You were down the stairs and in your living room when it happened. The morons hadn't even made it to the front door. If they had, however, they would've been flattened like a couple of pancakes.

You saw the front door fly off its hinges with a loud thud. You saw Frank lower his foot a split second later and hope fluttered in your chest. 

"Put her the fuck down."

"Or what?" Sean spat, pulling out a gun and aiming it right at Frank. The hope was crushed in a second. "What will you do if we don't put her down?"

"Then I'll put you down."

"That a promise or a threat?" Hagen asked, his tone mocking as he shifted you slightly.

"Both." Frank smiled slightly before his hand whipped up and grabbed Sean's gun, sending his leg out to kick him in the stomach, the gun firing as Sean squeezed the trigger. It missed Frank. You watched as Frank quickly took apart the gun, throwing the various bits over your couch. "Put her down."

Bain ran at him as Sean clutched his stomach, gasping and coughing from his spot where he'd fallen. 

Frank took no time in taking Bain down. He ended up right near Sean with a hard punch to the chest. 

Hagen stared at him and Frank stared back. 

"I won't say it again."

"I-" Hagen began, his grip faltering. You took the moment to wiggle your elbow out and send it right into his ribs, being sure to dig in with your bone. "Fuck!" 

You dropped to the ground and scrambled away from him, going to hide behind the edge of the couch. It was a few minutes and you heard grunting and fighting and kicking and suddenly there was an Irish man halfway through your wall. 

You screamed and moved again, going by the coffee table. 

You weren't safe there, either. While Bain took his time in the wall, Hagen was thrown onto the coffee table. The wood buckled beneath him, chips and pieces flying everywhere. There was enough force behind each chip that a couple went into your arm while the others just painfully bounced off.

"Ah!" You cried, feeling the splintered wood lodge in your arm. 

You stared at Hagen on the coffee table and, with one wheeze, his head lolled to the side. 

"My boss knows we're here! He'll find us!" Bain stated as Frank's hands wrapped around his throat, pulling him from the wall as you watched.

"No, he doesn't. He won't find you, no one will." 

And with that, Frank threw him against the wall and then picked him back up. He beat his head into the wall, blood going everywhere. You covered your mouth as you tried to look away, blood hitting a few picture frames.

Bain's body crumpled to the ground and then he went for Hagen, picking him up and throwing him towards his fellow Irishman.

"Please!" Hagen gasped, the wind already knocked out of him. He turned and, having not seen Frank's actions previously, let out a yell as he tried to move away from Bain's body. "Oh, God!"

"He can't help you." Frank muttered. 

You felt the urge to vomit, the feeling washing over you in a wave. The door was wide open and if anyone walked past, they would see what had happened. You attempted to go upstairs where your cat likely was, hiding out from the mayhem.

You passed Frank as he straddled Hagen, choking him and beating his head against the ground to get him to let go of his final breaths. You didn't get that far, however. A hand wrapped around your ankle as you reached the second stair, yanking you back. 

You shrieked loudly before your head to hit the wooden surface, and you immediately felt woozy. The hand dragged you down and, after being flipped over, its owner straddled your waist.

Sean was staring down at you, hands ready to wrap around your throat as your eyesight began to leave you. When his hands began squeezing the base of your throat, you tried to get him off – to fight him. 

"Please!" You gasped, feeling suddenly like Hagen. Your left hand was clawing at Sean's face and your right was clawing at his hands. Each breath you tried to take only made his grip tighter. 

You felt the cold air of the night blow inside, of all things. 

Darkness was overtaking you, dragging you down by its overgrown claws and drowning you in black. 

Or it was.

You saw the blurry outline of Frank's body collide with Sean's, allowing Sean to be completely knocked off of you. You couldn't move, you could only gasp for air. You looked to your right and saw Hagen doing the same as you.

Frank was mercilessly beating Sean, the latter's body being half over your couch as he tried to fight back. You watched as Hagen staggered as he stood, launching himself at Frank's back. He used his legs to make Frank's legs immobile and wrapped his arms around his neck. 

You watched helplessly as Frank slammed himself into a wall, trying to knock Hagen off. 

"Ah, shit!" Hagen shouted. 

You were surprised no one had come poking around yet. Considering they were being loud as hell. 

Sean had reached for something on the ground and was clumsily putting it together. You saw the weapon in his hand catch whatever light it could, glinting metal staring down Frank. 

"I'll put ya the fuck down, Frank." Sean hissed, spitting blood to the right of himself. "Now, get on the ground next to your girl and be quiet while I kill ya."

Frank stared at him and watched him turn the gun towards you.

"Be a good little soldier." 

You, with all the strength you could muster as Sean watched Frank, nailed a kick right in his crotch. 

Sean shouted and the gun dropped from his hand. You saw Frank barely catch it and turn it around on him. He shook Hagen off and shot him twice in the chest, the sound echoing throughout your home and likely into the street. The gunpowder smell wasn't nearly as bad as the metallic one coming from the Irishmen. 

Hagen's corpse was a few feet from Bain's and you swallowed whatever bile was coming up as you glanced at them. You used your feet to push your body back against the stairs, leaning halfway against the wall and the wooden steps to keep yourself up as you attempted to blink the bleariness away.

"Please, man. You can send a message, just with Bain and Hagen. Please." Sean's demeanor suddenly changed, his hands going up to show his sudden submissive nature. "I'll do anything."

"Why send a message with two when I can do it with three?"

Frank kicked Sean's legs out from under him and the man knew he was a goner. Sean stayed kneeled, resting his body on his heels as his tired form attempted to relax. He breathed heavily, oxygen filling his lungs rapidly. 

"I thought you said they'd never find us?" Sean pondered, his voice quiet. 

Frank chuckled softly, and you watched him press the barrel of the gun to Sean's forehead before stepping back.

"They won't. But if three of their men go missing, doesn't that speak for itself?" Frank asked almost mockingly, his voice confident. "Deserters? Traitors? Dead? Moved on? So many possibilities."

"Please!"

"Why did you change suddenly, huh?"

"I just wanna live, man! Please!"

Frank glanced at you, his raised arm faltering slightly as the gun's level dropped to Sean's chest. Sean gasped, saying something under his breath in his mother tongue. You realized dimly that this man, the same man who had previously been overconfident and somehow superior, was praying for mercy. 

Frank's grip on the gun tightened as he saw you blinking in and out of consciousness. He clenched his jaw and raised the gun.

"You'd just come after her again." 

One bullet was all it took to kill him, and one bullet was all Frank shot.


	4. if the shoe fits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You figured it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes part one! Part two will be up... whenever????

You woke up in the morning, flat on your bed with your cat nowhere in sight. The smell of coffee was flooding your house.

You got up slowly, your body sore and tired. Your head was pounding. You could handle it, though. It wasn't horrible, not like a hangover's after effects. You sighed softly and slipped your feet into your bunny slippers, walking downstairs slowly.

There was a dent in the third stair from the bottom.

You stared at it for a moment before continuing. Your slippers glided across your hardwood floor. You meant to go feed Kyla but someone already had. 

You didn't even see him standing there in his regular get-up. Jeans, boots, and a plain shirt with a slight frown on his face, hard eyes unrelentingly staring at you.

You fell face first onto the couch, letting out a groan before readjusting and sitting up properly. You glanced behind yourself, seeing him.

"Where's my coffee table?"

"Dumpster." Frank replied, sipping at the coffee he had made. "Same as your old door and its hinges."

"Oh." You muttered. Your moved your right hand over your left arm slowly, nervously rubbing at the skin. You felt your hand run over something and glanced down to see neon blue bandages on your arm. "This cause of the splintered wood?"

Frank watched you hold up your arm, showing him the classy repair job. He nodded slightly. "Yeah."

You didn't know how to react quite yet.

You took a deep breath, the smell of bleach hanging in the air along with a few choice chemicals. It unpleasantly mixed with the smooth aroma of coffee.

"You don't have a concussion." Frank told you, sniffling slightly as he made you a cup of coffee. "You do have bruises, though. All over you."

You watched him walk around the couch silently, taking in the way he looked. You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. He set the coffee in front of you after placing a hardcover book on the ground where the coffee would sit.

"I fed Kyla." 

"Why were you so far away?"

"What?" Had you caught Mr. Answer-For-Everything off-guard? "What do you mean?"

"Why were you so far away?"

"Why didn't you call the cops?" Frank countered, watching you as your lips pressed into a thin line.

"They wouldn't have done shit." You spat, not glancing at the chipped teal coffee mug. "Answer my question."

"I was at my apartment." He stated, watching you. "It's so I can conduct business."

"Oh, you've got a job?" You laughed mockingly, shaking your head. "That's nice."

“Considering you're my fake fiancé, there's a lot I don't know about you.” Frank watched you as you shoved the cup over with your feet, having it spill onto the carpeted area of your wooden floor. "I don't want your coffee."

"It's actually your coffee-"

"Fuck off, Frank." You snapped, no nickname for him in sight. You stared at him, the way his shoulders hunched a little as he clenched his jaw and watched your nervously. You were slowly putting it together in your head. "What kind of business?"

"Simple bodyguard duty."

"Mhm. Sounds like the first of many bullshits." You muttered, glancing down at the way your carpet soaked up the coffee, you'd have to clean that later. "Is that why when you actually go to your house next door, you have cuts and bruises?"

Frank looked away and nodded instead of actually verbally confirming his response.

"Where are their bodies?" You asked him, watching his frown turn into a scowl with your heavily direct question. "Where is Hagen, huh? What about Bain and Sean?"

"Somewhere. Nowhere you need to worry about." He told you – assured you, his voice even and calm. "They've been dealt with."

"You're him, then, aren't you?" You observed, the pieces fitting in your mind. They had a special name for him, like some fury from hell. It was one everyone all over the Kitchen called him – "The Punisher."

"(Y/N)-"

"Get out." You urged, watching him with hard eyes. "Get out now."

Frank turned and grabbed his jacket off of the chair nearest his form, tugging it on quickly. "I can explain."

"No, get out of my house." You repeated, standing quickly. You put your hands in front of you and, without touching him, made him go to the door. He turned the knob and swung it open, going to stand on your steps.

"Please." He nearly begged, watching you as you placed a hand on the door frame. You put your foot behind the door so you could close it easily.

"No." You argued, shaking your head.

"You're kicking me out because you're afraid of me, aren't you?" He asked, his voice hurt.

"I had to find out the hard way that you were the Punisher and that involved three dead Irish guys in my living room." You told him, eyes hard and voice firm. "So, no, I'm not kicking you out because I'm afraid of you. I'm kicking you out because you didn't tell me sooner."

The pained look in his eyes sent your heart into rabbit-mode, beating quickly in your chest.. You saw him open his mouth to speak as you slammed the door in his face, bolting and putting the chain on the door. 

You turned and pressed your back to it, slowly sliding down the down before you made contact with the floor. You glanced around the rooms. 

You could tell where he had bleached things. There were unusually white spots where he had bleached the walls in your living room. 

"Fuck." You muttered, forearms pressing over the tops of your knees before you raked your hands through your hair. You pressed the back of your head to the door before bringing it forward and slamming it back forcefully, no doubt hurting your head more. "Fuck!" 

Maybe this was unfair to him. He had his motives, you could guess what they were, but hell – he could've said something. He could have mentioned it over movie night or the many times you brought him food. 

But he didn't.

You felt hurt. Betrayed. You weren't scared, he could never do that to you, he made you feel a hell of a lot safer than you used to. But he lied. You can understand that, but he still did it.

You just needed time to process this.


End file.
